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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28561662">Where Better to Escape Trouble</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyArchive/pseuds/LadyArchive'>LadyArchive</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Extra, Extra!  Adventures before the Newsboys strike [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Backstory, Canon Backstory, Canon Compliant, Gen, Harm to Children, Hurt/Comfort, Medda's theatre, Pre-Canon, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:13:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,457</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28561662</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyArchive/pseuds/LadyArchive</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After a particularly bad stay in the Refuge Jack is back on the streets but still injured.  When he runs into trouble he hides in the first place he can find.  Medda Larkin has a strict no children policy in her theatre.  But what is she supposed to do when a little kid in need of help shows up?  Taking place early in 1895.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Extra, Extra!  Adventures before the Newsboys strike [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076405</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Where Better to Escape Trouble</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This plot bunny came out while I was writing Special Delivery and wouldn't leave me alone until I got a start on it.  I will probably prioritize that one so if you're looking for the comfort part of this story you might want to wait until more chapters are posted.  But I will try my best to get them both updated without too long of a wait.  </p><p>I picture Jack as 12 years old here but probably nearing 13 (all depends on where you head-canon his birthday to fall on).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was the first snowfall of the season.  Normally that would have meant looking forward to snowball fights in the street or sliding around on the pond in Central Park.  Seeing the snowflakes swirl through the clouded glass and barred windows of the Refuge, however, just brought the certainty that it would be a bitterly cold night ahead.  Jack wouldn’t even put it past Snyder to declare it too cold for the residents to take their exercise outside.  Though he apparently didn’t think it any risk to their health to run the place skimping on coal in the stoves.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Work harder and it’ll be warm enough.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  It was always the same answer whenever someone complained of the cold in the workrooms.  Jack hadn’t bothered to complain since the first time he was sentenced to this place.  He wasn’t sure what reasoning the guards would give about the dormitories but he didn’t see much point in asking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’d all been dismissed from supper and sent to their dormitories.  A bright, full moon glowed on the layer of snow already coating Randall’s Island’s grounds.  After a long day of work most boys dropped into the nearest bed, ready to sleep from exhaustion.  But others, though also exhausted, weren’t quite ready for sleep.  Some took the rare moments without guards looming over their shoulders to talk- quietly, of course- amongst each other.  Earlier in the week one of the older boys in this room had managed to smuggle a matchbox in and on cold nights like this they had taken to lighting whatever stubs of candles the rest of them could find.  Candles didn’t really give off much heat but somehow it felt better to have the tiny, flickering flames, than just sitting in the cold and dark.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack had settled himself in his bed- well, his portion of it anyway- but the problem with the long repetitive tasks of the Refuge’s work rooms, making shoes, hoops, and wire mesh was that although physically tiring it didn’t require much thought.  At this point it was more or less muscle memory for Jack.  So his mind was restless, wandering between daydreams and worries, places he’d rather be and thoughts of how he was going to get through these last few weeks of his sentence this time.  That was until the sound of sniffling cut into his swirling thoughts.  He raised his head from the mattress, scanning over forms beneath moth eaten blankets and clusters of boys talking quietly together.  Finally his gaze fell on a boy, he was young- maybe seven or so.  He sat on the floor with his legs drawn up in front of him nearly hidden, tucked away near the end of an already packed bed with his back against the wall.  He sniffed again, his hand moving to wipe at his face though he kept his head down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack pushed himself up from the bed and slowly walked over to the kid.  He was just a few steps away when the boy heard or maybe just sensed someone approaching.  His head shot up, wide eyes fixing on Jack as he drew his legs tighter to himself.  His nose was running and eyes were red like he’d been doing his best to wipe tears away before they could show themselves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Jack said softly, he took a few more steps nearer before crouching down in front of the boy.  “My name’s Jack.  What’s yours?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The boy hesitated, eyeing Jack cautiously before wiping at his nose with his sleeve.  “Henry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’re ya in for?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stealing,” Henry mumbled.  “Just wanted somethin’ to eat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That ain’t nothing new ‘round here,” Jack replied with a wry grin.  “First time getting caught?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They brought me here this afternoon.”  The boy paused a moment, giving Jack a thoughtful look before seeming to decide on something.  “Is it always so...so scary?”  He asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span> would have been the honest answer.  Especially for the first time.  But telling him so wouldn’t really do any good.    “Nah, just takes some getting used to.  Ya might hear noises in the dark but it’s just the rats poking around- more annoying than scary.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I ain’t afraid of the dark!”  The response came a little too quick to be fully convincing.  But maybe the dark wasn’t what he was most worried about as he sat fidgeting a little and glancing toward the door.  “Everybody here is...the grown ups are all mad.  And the bigger boys took my supper.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack couldn’t help a slight frown.  He knew that was the reality here, you had to be tough to survive here.  And most of the time you learned to toughen up the hard way.  Jack hated it, but he knew anyone that didn’t learn to fight for themselves didn’t make it out of here.  Still, he didn’t see why a new kid couldn’t get a little help to start with.  The trouble was in this case he didn’t have a lot of time to pass on too many tips, he’d been counting down the days until he was set to be released.  “Tell ya what, stick around with me.  I’ll show you how to keep your plate to yourself.  First trick is having fellas on your side, I’ll introduce you to the right ones.  I’ll be outta here in a week and you’ll be an expert on the Refuge by then.  Ok?”  He paused, thinking on his own past sentences and what he’d seen and heard of others.  “First time stealing...they probably gave you a month or so, right?  You’ll be outta here before ya know it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The man in the office said I’d be here for good,” Henry wiped at his eye.  “If I already turned thief I ain’t ever gonna be anything else.  And kids that’re nothings end up here and he decides who gets good jobs an’ bad jobs- and can put me with the meanest kids if he wants.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The warden gives that speech to everybody.” Snyder liked keeping all the kids under his thumb.  It was just another part of why Jack hated this place.  “Ya gotta be careful not to get caught in the future, sure, but don’t let him get to ya.  He just likes the sound of his own voice.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So...he ain’t gonna catch me soon as I do somethin’ again?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack scoffed.  “Oh, he’ll try.  But the trick is to be smart and quick.  Sometimes ya get a bit of bad luck and wind up in a corner,” he admitted.  There wouldn’t be much point lying to him- Jack was in here after all, and not for the first time.  Still, this was his third time in the Refuge but he’d dodged the cops and even Snyder himself more times than he bothered to count over the years.  “But if you gotta steal or anything just make sure you got one or two ways to get away quick if anybody spots you and you don’t gotta worry about the old Spider.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He seems real strong though,” Henry murmured, wiping his nose on his sleeve.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh sure he looks big and tough behind his nice desk and all that.”  Jack replied with a cheeky grin.  “But on the streets being big ain’t everything.  If your fast he ain’t so scary when you're out there…” he glanced over at the window nearby, a layer of frost stretched out across the glass and mixing with the grime.  He rose to his feet and moved to the window, his finger working quickly to draw out circles and l</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>ines in the frost.  In the corner of his eye he saw Henry turn to better face the window watching Jack’s drawing take form.  The creak of the bedframe suggested the boys on the nearby bed were also moving to get a closer look, possibly having been listening to the conversation before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Out on the street he looks more like this,” Jack said, stepping aside to reveal his finished work.  It was far from his best work given the limited options but he was pretty sure everyone in the Refuge would recognize the big mustache and favorite hat of the warden.  The figure held a web shaped net in front of a big, round belly as a nod to the inmates favorite nickname for him.  The figure’s feet appeared tangled in the net, his free hand flailing out to the side as the figure tried to regain his balance, eyes large and mouth forming a surprised shout beneath the bushy mustache.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few snorts and muffled chuckles sounded behind Jack as the gathered kids took in the image.  He stole a quick glance at Henry who had shifted to kneeling comfortably looking up at the window, no longer curled in defensively and there was just a hint of a smile on his lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Course he does sometimes have a bit of help…” Jack continued, moving to the next window pane.  Drawing multiple figures this time there wasn’t room for as much detail but each one clearly wore a uniform.  Three men gathered in the pane, one scratching his head with a confused frown, another crouched down as if looking under something, and the third shading his eyes from the sun peering around.  A few more giggles and whispered approvals sounded from the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finding his own mood lifting Jack continued on, moving to the glass panels above the drawings where he drew a cluster of smaller figures, clearly children gathered together looking down on the men with cheeky grins.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I ever tell ya about the time I ditched a clerk in a clothing store?”  One boy spoke up to his friend, though getting the attention of most of the gathered group.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he began the story other began offering their own daring escapes.  A few featuring Snyder himself or pranks pulled on the guards in the Refuge.  A few inspiring Jack to sketch out additional caricatures on the windows.  As the stories continued more boys gathered until the whole room was clustered around the window.  Short chuckles grew into stifled fits of giggling.  As the sounds of laughter and wild stories grew Jack could almost pretend he was back in the Lodging House, listening to Blink and the other older boys boasting about the sick or invalid acts that got them the best tips or the most absurdly embellished headlines people actually bought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He walks right by me at least three times- thought for sure he’d spot me.  But then he’s lookin’ so hard he don’t see the break in the sidewalk, trips right onto the street and into a pile of horse droppin’s.”  The latest story finished with peals of laughter from the group.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly a loud bang echoed through the room as the door was thrown open, flooding the room with light from the hall.  Instantly the room was deathly silent as all eyes turned to the backlit figure looming in the doorway.  “What’s going on in here?”  Jack recognized the voice, any of the Refuge staff hearing them would have been bad.  But of course it would be Warden Snyder himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Almost without thinking Jack’s arm shot out to the window, hastily swiping at the drawings.  Why hadn’t he realized they were all getting too relaxed.  Keeping spirits up was one thing, that had been all he wanted.  But it had gone just a little too far- no one had even heard the key unlatching the door before it opened.  And now everything was happening all too quickly.  Snyder shoved his way past the boys on the outside of the group, yelling about the time and what were they doing up.  And Jack had only wiped at two panes before the Spider had taken in the window.  If the fact that Jack was the closest to it wasn’t already proof enough his attempts to clear it away was all the Spider needed to decide who was responsible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He grabbed Jack’s arm and jerked him away and out of reach from the window.  “Hiding evidence are we?”  He said, keeping a firm grip as he now took a full look at the remaining drawings.  Unfortunately Jack had been on the opposite side from his original drawings, leaving those and a few other unflattering caricatures still on full display.  Even with the frost wiped away the basic idea of other drawings could be seen in the disturbed grime on the glass.  Snyder’s expression darkened even further as he took it in, turning his gaze on Jack.  “Kelly.  I shouldn’t be surprised you’d be the ringleader of this sort of thing.”  He shook his head.  “The House of Refuge offers a chance for honest work, a place for wayward children to amend their ways.  But instead of taking our lessons to heart, Jack, you not only continue this disrespectful behavior, now you’re dragging others along the same path.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of the regular guards was in the room, gruffly sending any kids that hadn’t already retreated from the gathered crowd to their beds.  Jack knew the tone in Snyder’s voice well.  The lecturing always progressed into “making an example” which meant getting all the witnesses in line.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Jack didn’t plan on being an example of the Spider winning.  “How d’ya like that?  Here I am, tryin’ to spruce up the place, do a little decorating, and this is the thanks I get?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Snyder’s eyes narrowed with a scowl before shifting, still irritated but mixed with something else.  “For the first time, that smart mouth of yours might be onto something.  This room could use some </span>
  <em>
    <span>sprucing up</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  And,” he added, turning to look around the room.  “Seeing as everyone is still so awake, why don’t you all work on a thorough cleaning.  Tonight.  I want this room spotless, from floor to ceiling.  Beds stripped and mattresses turned.  And I expect it done before morning when your regular work begins.”  There were a few groans and murmured complaints but most knew better than to voice any objections.  Jack inwardly winced at how that comment had backfired but he supposed given the circumstances the others would have gotten some sort of punishment for being involved.  Snyder ignored the reactions, turning his attention back to Jack.  “However, clearly the usual methods haven’t been getting through to Kelly, here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He moved to the center of the room, pulling Jack along with him.  With the hand not still gripping Jack, Snyder reached out for the baton in the nearest guard’s hand, the man readily handed it over.  “If you won’t learn how to behave I’ll have to make sure you can’t get into this sort of mischief anymore.”  The next moments seemed to come far too fast.  Jack felt Snyder pull his arm out straight and in the same motion brought the baton in his other hand down.  Jack didn’t know if he heard or felt something crack- but he definitely heard the sound that tore from his lips as pain lanced through his arm and shoulder.  His stomach turned and the already dim roomed went black, how much it </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span> consuming his every thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next thing he knew he had hit the floor, sending new waves of pain from his arm and through his whole body.  And then there was nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack’s head felt fuzzy as he slowly became aware of his surroundings.  He wasn’t lying on a hard floor.  No, it was definitely a mattress.  A bit stiff and the fabric around him was scratchy but it wasn’t the worst place he’d slept in.  The air didn’t smell quite so musty as he had gotten used to in the past few months.  He also wasn’t aware of anyone else crammed into the bed with him.  Slowly his eyes blinked open, it took a few moments to adjust to the brightly lit room but soon enough he saw a plain white ceiling.  Turning his head he saw a cabinet with a lock on its handle keeping whatever the contents were secure.  He moved to sit up only to gasp as his shoulder protested.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh.  Right.  He remembered coming around sometime after Snyder struck his arm.  There had been voices but he hadn’t been able to focus on what they were saying.  Everything had hurt and he couldn’t move.  He was being held down while another pair of hands kept moving his arm, making the pain even worse.  The memories came if flashes, he thought he could recall a final quick shift in his arm.  That had hurt a lot.  Then everything had faded out again soon after.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A quick glance around- only moving his head- and took in the other beds in the room.  A few on the other end of the room looked like they had people under the blankets that were decidedly cleaner than most others in the Refuge.  He was in the infirmary.  A room that visiting officials or city representatives might want to stop in so Snyder had to keep up appearances more.  Memories of the previous night- or he assumed it was just the past night anyway- came back.  Jack had gotten into his fair share of fights both in the Refuge and on the streets but this was definitely going to be bad.  He glanced down to see his right arm wrapped and in a sling.  The skin that was visible through the fabric around his shoulder was sporting a large bruise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He heard footsteps outside the hall approaching the door.  He quickly shut his eyes and lay his head back down.  He would have to face whatever else the Spider had in store but he definitely wasn’t in any rush.  Would he extend Jack’s sentence again?  He didn’t think drawing pictures was against any law but the Warden’s word would always be taken more seriously than a kid who’d already been in and out of the Refuge a few times.  He could say whatever he wanted- call it vandalism or something like that?  Jack had been so close to the end of this sentence.  So close to freedom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He heard the door open and the footsteps came closer, stopping close enough whoever it was definitely had come to check on him.  “Still unconscious?”  Snyder’s voice sent a chill down Jack’s spine but he managed to keep still.  Reminding himself to keep his breaths slow and steady.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He did come to briefly while I was checking the arm but the setting seemed to be too much again.”  Jack didn’t recognize that voice but guessed it was the doctor that was kept on staff. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your diagnosis?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The bone is fractured.  He’ll have to stay in the sling for at least two weeks- possibly three.  Even after that I couldn’t approve him for any sort of strenuous work for a month or so.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Snyder gave a thoughtful hum.  “The timing isn’t ideal.  He’s scheduled to be released at the end of this week.  How long before you could release him from the infirmary?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll know if there’s any complications within a day or so.  Barring that there really isn’t much I can do.”  The doctor explained.  “Given time bones heal on their own, provided the area isn’t strained or reinjured.  Will you be requesting an extension on his sentence, he’s been in here for brawls and the like even before this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’d deserve it, but he’d just be on our charity for most of the extension anyway,” there was definitely a note of irritation in Snyder’s voice.  “If the law requires us to monitor him longer so be it but otherwise he’ll be released on schedule.”    It figured Snyder wouldn’t want him around if he couldn’t contribute to the profits that the workrooms turned out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll keep him on the infirmary roster for the week then- to be safe.  But so long as there are no additional issues I can clear him in time.”  The doctor declared.  The infirmary roster?  Jack had heard the Refuge got money based on how many kids were in the place.  Did they get extra stipends for sick and injured ones?  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A clock somewhere chimed, marking the breakfast hour.  “I’d best be getting to the dining hall.  I’ll be back in a few hours for a status report.”  It seemed like he was making a convincing show of still being asleep, or unconscious.  But Jack had a feeling Snyder’s patience would run thin.  As he heard them move off, footsteps moving away from the bed he peeked one eye open to see both men headed for the door.  He could maybe stretch another hour before he’d have to accept getting poked and prodded at.  He might as well try to get a little more sleep while he could  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Scene in this chapter inspired by NewsieSquare's tumbler post, found here: https://newsiesquare.tumblr.com/post/176601610166/jacks-broken-shoulder</p></blockquote></div></div>
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